


Lap Of Luxury

by thelonelywriter



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Gang Member Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Stripper Castiel, idek what to tag this, kind of a sad cliffhanger ending whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2018-03-07
Packaged: 2019-03-28 07:46:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13899534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelonelywriter/pseuds/thelonelywriter
Summary: Cas’ voice had gone softer and his eyes were filled with intent. Dean had the overwhelming urge to simply reach up and cup Cas’ chin and tell him that whatever was given to him whether it was bought with dirty money or not, it would have good intentions.And then Dean remembered that good intentions meant fuck all.“I want to take care of you. I want to spoil you, buy you everything you need, everything you ask for and then some. I want you to be first place in my life,” Dean had explained. Cas softened even more at that. Dean tilted his head and eyed that softness with fondness.“And what if I say I’ve already fallen in love with you, at least a little?” Dean questioned quietly. Cas glanced up at him, blue eyes tender. He swallowed and blinked and took a breath.“And what if I say I’ve been stupid enough to do the same?”





	Lap Of Luxury

**Author's Note:**

> okay listen my guy i don't even know if this is good, i haven't written dean/cas in sometime because i've been working on oc stuff but that isn't working out for me today and i needed to write something so i decided to just sit down and go for it and this happened. as per usual, i thought of not posting but i figure that maybe one person out there will like this (hopefully).

It’s something in the way he moves, Dean believes. There’s a coy, subtle sort of grace to every single sultry movement that plays throughout Cas’ body. Dean saw it the second he laid eyes on Cas in that club. The only dancer there who portrayed some sort of grace that Dean only recognized as purely angelic. Of course, Cas was shameless about it from square one. Dean could tell, absolutely just tell, the second he slouched down in that skeevy backroom couch with Cas standing in front of him with his head cocked to the side like he was reading every single one of Dean’s movements.

“You look important,” Cas had mused. It had been the first words out of Cas’ mouth. Dean likes to believe that they didn’t mean anything at the time, though there’s something lurking in Dean that makes him think differently.

“You’ve got no idea,” was the only response Dean could come up with. A gang leader in a city that never really sleeps, well, Dean would call that important. The bands of hundreds slipped quietly into the expensive pockets of his slacks spoke a volume. 

Cas, at the time, of course knew none of this. Every movement he made against Dean’s body, every sway of his hips and brushes of his hand were executed in the blissful state of ignorance. Cas had no clue where Dean had been or where he was going. And Dean knew this. And Dean wanted to keep it that way.

It was obvious, however, when he came back a second time, and a third time, that the truth would slip in those moments where Cas was doing only what he had been raised to do from day one. And that scared Dean a little, he had to admit. The fact that, by the fifth week he had returned, Dean knew Cas had him wrapped around his little, ever so delicate pinky finger.

Now, Dean was never one for connection, Dean was never one for love or love stories. But there was something romantic and twisted about the way Dean could find his way to the club, find his way to that same couch in the back, find his way to hands lingering gently over Cas’ waist as Cas whispered sweet nothings about how much it would cost for Dean to touch. And at one point, Dean decided paying wasn’t really ideal when Cas was sneaking Dean looks that Dean could tell Cas was trying to keep in check.

So somewhere between the twentieth time or maybe the fiftieth (Dean lost count after the tenth time wandering into the club with eyes only for Cas) Dean decided that Cas was more than just a dancer or something sweet to look at. Dean realized that Cas deserved a lot more than a job at the local strip club. And that was when it all started.

“Move in with me.”

It was whispered in a way that made it seem as though it was a fraction off of going unsaid. If Cas hadn’t been as close to Dean as he was, he may not have even heard it. But he heard it. Dean could tell. Cas had frozen in a way he had never. He stuttered in a rhythm that was never off. He paused. And then he pulled back and looked at Dean with eyes that Dean couldn’t really tell were honest or not. They were just blue. Blue and bright and filled with a fire that made Dean’s heart ache.

“Is your money clean?”

Dean smirked at that. It was a question he thought Cas had already answered.

“You think anyone with this much money isn’t dealing with at least a little dirty money?”

Cas’ gaze had fallen at that as though he had slipped up, as though he had forgotten a line or realized a fault only he could be blamed for. And then he looked back up at Dean.

“It’s not necessarily smart to move in with a man who claims to have some money, money that’s admittedly a little dirty. Do I really want to accept an offer that I get asked on a daily basis? Do you know how many rich guys have popped in here and thought that they could buy me?”

“Who said I’m looking to buy?”

Cas’ eyes flashed with a quick curiosity.

“You’ve been a consistent regular and I’ll give you that. But what else should I credit to you that will lead to me dropping all I have to move in with a man who’s dealing with things far bigger than me, things that I probably shouldn’t even be involved in?” 

Cas’ voice had gone softer and his eyes were filled with intent. Dean had the overwhelming urge to simply reach up and cup Cas’ chin and tell him that whatever was given to him whether it was bought with dirty money or not, it would have good intentions. 

And then Dean remembered that good intentions meant fuck all. 

“I want to take care of you. I want to spoil you, buy you everything you need, everything you ask for and then some. I want you to be first place in my life,” Dean had explained. Cas softened even more at that. Dean tilted his head and eyed that softness with fondness.

“And what if I say I’ve already fallen in love with you, at least a little?” Dean questioned quietly. Cas glanced up at him, blue eyes tender. He swallowed and blinked and took a breath.

“And what if I say I’ve been stupid enough to do the same?”

After that, that was it. Dean took Cas on a few dates before the initial move and the dates always went well. Cas moved in and things went even smoother. It was like Cas was made for a life of luxury, like his purpose was to lounge around Dean’s penthouse apartment in a crop top and silk shorts, bare feet padding on expensive flooring and hair rustled by the breezes coming through open french doors in the living room.

It was months after the move that Cas was content and so was Dean. Dean never talked about work with Cas, he never mentioned anything about his day. Whenever asked, he had an excuse. And for Cas, well, for some reason, that was enough.

And then more months went by, and more months went by, and Dean learned to admire the way Cas looked stretched out on a king sized bed, the way he looked leaning over the balcony in the bedroom, the way he still danced for Dean when Dean was lucky enough. And somewhere between a domestic bliss that Dean was becoming too comfortable with and a rhythm that they had fallen into, the inevitable happened, life got in the way, and one day Dean woke up with an empty bank account, a cold space in bed next to him, and a letter on the kitchen counter.

‘Dear Dean,

I hate to do this to you, truly, I promise with all my heart that this hurts me as much as it hurts you. But, as I’ve matured, I’ve learned to take care of myself first. I realize that this sounds selfish, I realize that somewhere along the way I messed up. 

If you’re wondering if I ever really loved you, if all those sweet moments meant something, well, they did. They meant the world to me. And you meant the world to me. But life is funny, and, well, I needed to do this.

The life of luxury and love you gave me was enough to fill my heart with sunshine for a thousand years. But I think it’s easy to admit that you slipped up too. You shouldn’t have trusted me the way you did. I know that’s probably a shitty thing to say, but I’ve got to let you know. 

I promise you, I’m not a bad person. I’m not someone who never loved you. I’m just someone who made a few mistakes. 

This is me trying to right them.’

**Author's Note:**

> tell me what you thought!!! to be honest, i don't really see myself continuing this, this was kind of something i just wrote to shake off writing dust :P but idk, send me ideas, brainstorm w/ me!! and as always, thank you so so much for reading <3 xoxo


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